Woo! My how the days get ahead of me. As the title suggests, we have made our entrance into the schools again; no to my surprise, the kids didn't miss anything. "Hey, I remember you!", "Were you in Pinocchio" (why do they always think I was that guy from the show I never did here?) , "Did you finally find a shirt that fits"....uh, yes I did...more on that in a moment.
This set is a little less encompassing--which is nice because we can save more of our focus and stressing upon the show and crowd itself. This was a straightforward event--nine plays, back to back, with an intro and conclusion. I'd love to give summaries of all of them, but that's a lot to follow in a post. So, let's give you two more:
The Silly King Named Kenny:
One day, the King greeting his servants when he receives a very important package from the postman. In the sworn oath of secrecy of the postman, when the court has adjourned, it is reveiled that his most precious object is a...Barbie Doll (dun dun dun!)! Of course, the King can't be made to look silly in front of his kingdom, but the postman is a lousy confidant and blurts it out to two of the servants. They all make it just in time to find the King, and his plastic waltzing partner--we're talking flips, tosses, spins; the work. The King manages to justify his position by being the tester of toys while his subjects laugh off his "very important work".
The Fortune Telling Peach:
In the middle of Orangetown...there is a peach who tells people's fortunes. However, they must have a good heart to know them. A little girl comes and learns she will have a big family. A theif comes and learns...that he will not get his fortune. And, a very worried mother comes to find out if her son shall survive "the war", but with many memories of its horrors. It's a peach that gives the people hope.
Again, they're all really good plays. I mean, even this guy (who has frequently attended and supported the Under 6 Play Festival) thought these young playwrights were making work more honest than that being done on Broadway!
Today was a typical day with three shows. We have a Q and A after each show. Here's some of the highlights:
We've been asked how we remove this hat from another story called The Pencil That's Afraid to be Sharpened (should be ample explanation for now); or how we make the bus spin around in a tornado; or how the policeman on the bike--er--"car" escorts the two kids to school. And we demonstrate. Sometimes they make statements. They might like a character. Or thought the who presentation was really good. Or this pre-k child in the front of the audience that really saw something in the play and told us about how his dad's gone away and isn't coming back, but that he's ok because his mom is taking care of him now...because of one of our plays (I've already mentioned this one before: New Moon).Remember, all these plays were written by kids just like this guy. We were all very moved by his revelation. I would be lying if I said I didn't almost cry.
And then there was the question about my "too short" shirt. Well. When we were doing the Playmakers Tour (you remember that thing, right?), we had these costumes for months. And they get washed. A lot. Ware and tare are bound to happen when clothes get beat up on stage and then in a washer and dryer five days a week for 3-4 months. But these aren't exactly the kind of clothes you'll find in your upscale mall. So you know how cotton likes to shrink?
Yep.
One day, I come to find my shirt, which fitted me perfectly at the onset (which in my experience has always been a bit of foreboding), had miniaturized itself a half to full size down from it's original specs. When we made it for the show I'm in this shrunken undershirt and my still normal purple plaid over-shirt, which meant that if you were to meet me when I walked in, I wouldn't have looked any different. Heck, even if I was doing warm-ups you wouldn't notice anything. But, there was this one point in the show where I would be doing something in the improvised portion; or more importantly being the fully committed actor that I am supposed to be, and in the excitement of the moment, there would be a brief second where I would, for some justifiable reason beyond what my memory can recall at this very moment, require my body to be very big and stretched out. The largess of the movement made my belly briefly, and partially, exposed--much to the surprise of everyone--including myself.
In any other case, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but it's kids we're talking about here. And of course they laughed. It was rare, and certainly I did my best to avoid it, but in a show that asks you to do near gymnastics, with a shirt that doesn't fit, it was a funny moment waiting to happen. And of course everyone made fun of me for it. Nothing's funnier to children then seeing their seeming infallible elders and older peers produce a gaff. It appears that it was enjoyed by all-including the quiet chuckles of the bashful teachers in the background.
Gladly, we wear buccaneer poofy shirts that don't leave any of that nonsense to chance. You know...serious, adult clothing. So dear children: I'm sorry for the too short shirt--never will you need see my belly button again. I promise.
-Ben
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